


Wicked Lips

by MissMonsters2



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fingering, Ice Play, Public Sex, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22622230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMonsters2/pseuds/MissMonsters2
Summary: [From Tumblr]Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFCPrompt Request: Anonymous- “Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?” with reader as top
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Reader, natasha Romanoff/reader, natasha romanoff/you, natasha romanov/you
Kudos: 95
Collections: Natasha Romanoff Reader Inserts





	Wicked Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: 18+ readers only as it’s filled with smutty goodness. Reader discretion advised, please be safe and responsible. 
> 
> Note: This for the anon that submitted 3 in one ask. As you could submit up to 3 prompts per person, I will fulfill them separately :)

It’s boring, you think.

You hate doing anything public relations related, it’s a waste of time having to try to appease politicians, CEOs, and get along with journalists. 

Journalists are the worst, you think. They’re always nosey and have no boundaries. You’re lucky Tony deals with them accordingly, but even he has to play a certain amount of niceness to the public. 

Though, you’ve lost count on how many times he’s told a politician or CEO to go fuck themselves. 

Pepper certainly has her hands full.

You’re standing in front of some big-shot CEO currently, mind wasting away as he yabbers on about his new product launch. Still, you put on a half-grin, holding your champagne glass with your other hand shoved into your dress pants pocket, fiddling with the thick ring around your middle finger. 

“It’s going to be amazing, the public is just going to go wild over it. Can you imagine? Just think about the–”

You’ve already drowned out his voice, eyes drifting past him as you catch Natasha’s eyes from across the room. 

She’s standing with a journalist, a pushy one. You’ve definitely had problems with this journalist in the past with his lack of boundaries and entirely inappropriate questions. 

Natasha looks at you, licking her lips subtly, and you cock your brow.

It’s always games with Natasha. 

At least, it has been for the last couple of months.

Between hooking up post-missions and during training sessions, you’re hardpressed to try to define what you guys were. 

But you were fine with that, there really was no rush for anything. You liked the games.

The night goes on as you fiddle from CEO to CEO, politician to politician. Eventually, you manage to catch a break at the bar.

“Rum on the rocks, please,” you tell the bartender, pulling at your tie knot to loosen it slightly before running your hands through your hair. She hands you the glass, and you sip from it delicately. 

You’re at your limit. You’re about to find Pepper and tell her you’re done for the night. You’ve done your fair share of mingling. 

You scan the crowd again, catching Natasha talking to Steve. She looks pretty done for the night, as well. She stands there slanted on one leg as the other comes through the slit of her red dress. 

It’s entirely provocating, and you drink her in, from her toned calf all the way up to her defined collarbone.

You lick your lips, smirking when you realized she’s caught you staring at her. 

Maybe the night isn’t quite done yet, you think as you walk out of the room, glass still in hand.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

It’s not until after a while that Natasha decides that she’s done for the night too. The night is still young, but she’s already seen you live a little while back. Even though she’s used to it, she’s quite bored with entertaining politicians and CEOs.

She waves everyone a subtle goodbye for the night, leaving into the hallway. As she walks about to walk past a turn, she gets pulled sharply to the side. Natasha’s about to flip the person over her shoulder, but she comes face to face with you, your fingers on your lips as you give her a smug grin. 

You pull her a little deeper into the hallway, taking a seat in the large cushion wingback chair, pulling Natasha onto your lap. 

This was generally a restricted area to the general public, and you sure Natasha already had a few ideas of what you were planning.

“You’ve kept me waiting quite long,” you tell her, sliding your hand up her exposed thigh, the dress riding higher and higher. Your lips brush against her collarbone, and you feel Natasha shiver slightly. 

Your lips feel cold from the ice you were sucking on from your rum while you were waiting for Natasha. 

“Oh?” Natasha husks, “I wasn’t aware we made any arrangements after.”

She feels you smirk against her skin. 

“Well, with you looking like this tonight and the amount of eye-fucking we’ve done over the past couple of hours would beg to differ.” You nibble on her collarbone while your hand slides underneath her dress, caressing her hip. 

Your other hand is on her back, leaving feather-light caresses before it grips the zipper and drags it down slowly. You adjust your leg, so it’s tilted, causing Natasha to slide down, very much intentionally make herself grind on your thigh.

It causes her to gasp sharply. It’s been a while, Natasha thinks, knowing that you would know it too. Everything feels sensitive, especially with your cold fingertips leaving hot marks down on her body. She can’t help but shift her hips and grind herself again, groaning lowly. 

You lick your lips as Natasha’s head falls forward slightly, and you take advantage of the moment and attach your lips to her neck, sucking on the flesh there.

“Oh,” Natasha moans, and it’s unabashedly that you have to pinch her hip in warning. 

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?“ You pepper kisses along her neck before you reach her lips and kiss her deeply. It’s an iconic mix as she tastes like pineapple juice from her fruity drink while you taste like rum. 

You groan softly against her lips, her dress slipping down her front as there’s nothing left for you to zip down. 

Breaking your lips from hers, you press open-mouthed kisses as you travel down to her chest. Taking a nipple into your mouth, you suck, feeling Natasha tense as she reaches to grip the top edge of the couch.

“Ah,” she whines, and you unlatch your lips, blowing cool air and watching the tip turn ridged. 

Natasha is trying to find more friction as she’s grinding against your thigh. God, she wants to cum so bad. 

Your finger works around until they’re pressed against her hot center. 

“Fuck, nothing hasn’t happened yet, and you’re this wet. You must want it bad, don’t you?” You mumble against her chest. Your other hand is pressing firmly against her spine, just the way she likes it as you drag your hand up.

It feels like an icy fire against Natasha’s skin before your other hand makes it to the front to her chest. Taking the mound in your hand, you squeeze, your finger rolling over the hard pebble. 

Natasha bites her tongue to hold the wanton sounds that want to come out, but she hasn’t been very successful.

Your fingers are rubbing her through her panties, just a slightly harder pressure every time you pass her clit. 

“Don’t tease,” she grits at you, unsure how much longer she can actually take. 

You merely half-grin before sucking on the exposed skin atop her chest. But when Natasha moans a little too loudly again, you stop and cock your brow at her.

She only looks at you, unabashed, and you know she has no intention of staying quiet, but you can’t let get away with blatantly ignoring you. Your other hand goes back to resting atop her thigh while your other hand reaches over to the glass of rum you had earlier. You fish out an ice cube, and without any warning, you place it against her stomach.

You watch as the muscle tenses and Natasha yelps with a slight jump. Your hand moves to her hip, and you grip it tightly.

“Wait–what are you–” Natasha stumbles, feeling the cold ice cube travel up.

“Punishment,” you murmur to her, focusing on your task. The ice cub leaves a wet trail of water that drips down against Natasha’s warm skin. Once the ice cube makes just under her chest, you lower your head, catching the ice cube between your lips and continue to push it up.

It travels between Natasha’s breast, and she’s squirming the best she can while you have her hips held in place. She takes a sharp breath when it goes up to her neck. 

You push the ice cub all the way to her lips, and she takes it in her mouth. 

“Hold that,” you command her. “If it drops out of your mouth, I’ll stop. Do you understand?”

“And if it melts?” Natasha asks, adjusting the ice between her lips. She can already feel it begin to numb her lips.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be finishing you off before then,” you smirk.

Now with Natasha unable to make too many loud noises with her mouth kept busy, you went back to your administrations. Your hand travels between her legs, rubbing her more firmly as you begin to leave hickeys on her neck.

Natasha makes a sound in the back of her throat, but she desperately keeps the ice cub between her lips. She can’t afford for you to stop what you’re doing.

Suddenly, the two of you hear a door open and footsteps clamoring out, but they’re around the corner and seem to stay there.

“No, I haven’t gotten anything interesting,” the two of you hear. You both instantly recognize the voice as the nosey journalist. He seems to be chatting with someone on the phone.

“No, I’m interested. Keep talking,” he says. 

Natasha tenses, but you pepper kisses across her chest while your fingers slide her underwear to the side, and you stroke her, feeling her velvety wet folds.

Natasha hisses.

She’s dripping wet, and it’s coating your fingers as you stroke her, circling her clit, pressing against the hard nub from time to time. 

Natasha’s breathing raggedly, and you can’t help but push her closer. God, she was simply lovely. 

Your two fingers stroke her once more before entering her roughly. 

“Mm!” She grunts.

“Hold on, I think I heard something,” the journalist says, and you stay still to let the quiet settle over once more.

“Nevermind, I think I’m just hearing things,” the journalist goes back to his conversation,

“Shhh,” you whisper against Natasha’s flushed skin. “You have to stay quiet, Nat. You don’t want him catching you in such a compromised position, do you?” 

You begin to thrust while Natasha’s already riding your fingers.

“Just think of the headlines,” you muse, “Black Widow begs to be fucked by her teammate.”

You continue to thrust, meeting Natasha’s hips as she trembles in your arm. The ice cube is melting, sending water dripping from her lips. You lean forward to lick her bottom up, catching a drop. 

Natasha drops her hands down onto your shoulders as she grips it tightly when you curl your fingers. 

She’s whimpering and whining, her body writhing as she’s getting messier with her thrusts trying to chase her end. 

“You’re so stunning, Nat,” you say against her throat. “I really couldn’t keep my eyes off of you tonight, just thinking of this moment, having you wet and dripping for me while I fuck you.”

Natasha screws her eyes shut, the ice cube almost melting to nothing. God, she has to hold in the sounds because she’s so close, and if you stop now, she might explode. 

There’s a tight coiling in her stomach, and her entire body feels hot. Her hips are moving more messily, and Natasha comes undone when you swipe your thumb up and rub her clit. You smash your lips to Natasha’s, swallowing her moan as her whole body tenses, and you feel her back go cold for just a moment before she sags against you. Her walls slowly stop pulsating against your fingers as you drag them out, your hand messy from Natasha spilling all over you.

You lift your fingers to your mouth, licking them before putting them into your mouth.

Natasha watches you with half-lidded eyes, biting her lip seductively.

“You’re quite sensitive and loud today,” you comment, and Natasha rolls her eyes at you.

“It’s been a while since someone has been busy lately,” she snipes playfully at you.

You smirk, placing a slow kiss on her collarbone once more before you pull up her dress, lifting her up in your arms.

“Right, my bad. Let’s me make it up to you,” you tell her as you carry her to the elevator, passing the journalist who drops his mouth at the two of you. He’s not fast enough to pull out his camera as the elevator doors shut.

“Take us to my room, F.R.I.D.A.Y,” you ask politely, and the elevator starts to move upwards.

“This wasn’t you making it up to me?” Natasha asks, and you chuckle.

“Oh no,” you tell her, “I’m not even close to being done with you.”


End file.
